


The darkness smiles back

by Llamadramaphan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sam and Dean gone bad, Smut, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Webcams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6276247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llamadramaphan/pseuds/Llamadramaphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has changed.<br/>But so has Sam.<br/>At least that's what he thinks as he sits on the chair, cock stiff in his lap as Dean sets up the webcam. Sets up everything for them to be watched.<br/>Watched as they do all the things brothers should never do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The darkness smiles back

**Author's Note:**

> Sammy is 15 in this story (it's mentioned like once tho so) so if anyone has a problem with that...I came up with this when in the bathtub and then tried getting it from my brain onto screen as fast as possible so sorry for any mistakes or spelling errors.

Dean never was the same after Dad died.

The character traits were still there – the smug grins and obnoxious behaviour – but along with that, there was a new part to Sam’s older brother, a part which they both seemed pretty keen on avoiding at all costs.  
Because it was exactly that part that wanted to do shit like this-

Sam stared at the laptop in front of them, spent a worryingly calm thought on how he’d just found a job on it yesterday (two little kids, drowned in their own bathtub by the ghost of their angry grandmother), before the touch of Dean’s hands catapulted him back into reality.  
The reality in which his big brother ’s got his big brother hands running all over his clothed chest, where his big brother keeps licking his eyes at the webcam they’ve got installed on top of the laptop and smirking hungrily. 

Sam honestly couldn’t decide for the life of him if he liked that reality – but it was what it was and so he just kept still, taking shallow breaths as he watched Dean watch the screen.

There was something dark in his brother’s eyes – not like the dark that rim demon’s irises or the dark that’s found in people who’ve just come face to face with the cruelty of the world – no, those types of dark he’d seen way too often to not be able to dismiss them…it was something else, something that caused his stomach to lurch and something that made the strands of hair on his neck stand up in alert.  
Maybe it was interest.

He couldn’t figure it out in time before Dean’s voice filled the motel room, in a deep timbre that caused Sam to bite his lip.  
“Look at him. Look at my baby brother. All pretty, tied up to the chair, waiting for his big brother to do something…waiting for what’s comin’…”  
Sam wanted to groan at the words, but then there was Dean’s hand slowly making its way down to his pants, playing with the first button like it was his favourite thing to do – he was playing.

Playing with Sam, playing with the audience which watched their little game behind their screens.

Sam tried picturing who would come to attend a show of this kind, what sickos lurked in the dark pits of the internet, jumping from one livestream to the next.  
Sam distantly recalled seeing a small window with the words ‘beating my little 10yo bitch’ pop up as Dean showed him the page they’re streaming on now, grits his teeth at the memory of Dean just clicking the thing away like it was nothing, at the imagery of those people actually watching that kind of shit, getting off on it.

But then again…wouldn’t this register as child pornography as well?

He let out a shaky breath as Dean’s hand finally dipped under the fabric, rough finger tips brushing along the rosy skin there, just enough to get Sam’s blood rushing, not enough to do much else.  
The chat on the side of the screen was going wild – Sam couldn’t make out exactly what the messages were saying but he could figure.  
Probably cheering Dean on, probably talking about how much they wanted to see them fuck or something…and as if Dean had somehow crept his way into Sam’s mind, he suddenly pulled away to walk towards the laptop perched on the tiny bed stand, hips swaying as he did so.  
Sam watched him, breath held, sweat pearls forming on his forehead.

“Wanna know what they’re sayin’ Sammy?”

Sam nodded shakily.

“They’re sayin’ how beautiful you are. How you’re gorgeous. How they can’t wait to see me fuck the shit outta you.”

Again, it was enough to get Sam going, hips hovering over the chair slightly as his hips surged upwards without his command or consent – Dean saw it though.  
And the viewers probably did as well.  
But before Sam could feel embarrassed about it, Dean was by his side again, big hands coming to grip his shoulders and pin them down – that harshness of the touch was a bit unfamiliar but not so the soft smile Dean sent his way, the real Dean shining through all the fucked up and angry goo that his brother seemed to be made of these days.  
And that simple smile was what kept Sam in the chair.

Even as Dean’s hands roamed again, exposing more and more of Sam’s stomach until he just decided to fuck it and pull his brother’s shirt off completely, even as Sam twisted with embarrassment and the fear of this affecting them somehow – of this being the one thing in their lives that would be just a bit more fucked up than the rest of it all.  
But he stayed.  
Stayed for the plush lips stretching out into a bright smile, stayed for the excitement and affection behind green eyes which never left Sam, never swayed back to the webcam again.

It was like he completely shut it out, completely forgot about the people intruding as he came to stand behind Sam and bent over to kiss his brother’s pursed lips – Something in Sam’s stomach flipped again, and it felt like he was in an elevator and falling with every touch of Dean’s lips, as gently and soft as they were.

“So beautiful. So. Fucking. Beautiful.”

Sam groaned, turning away from where Dean was whispering into his ear, attempted not to shudder as he felt something slick run over the shell of it – Dean’s tongue.  
But he did anyway when the wetness reached into his ear, dabbed inside like it was his ass instead – Sam felt himself crumble.  
With every tug of Dean’s hand against his nipple, with every wet swipe across or inside his ear, he knew he was as done for as one could be. 

He was just 15 years old and he knew that he was ruined forever.

To his surprise, that didn’t bother him that much though.  
Maybe it was the distraction Dean offered by pushing a hand into Sam’s trousers and shoving them down roughly, but maybe it was just the fact that….well….everybody’s gotta adapt sometime.

And ever since they’d started this game – this game of who would ruin whom first – he had been pushing and twisting, trying to wiggle out somehow, find that loophole that would save his sanity. But he couldn’t.  
And when Dean went from his ear to the Expand of his throat, nipping the Adam’s apple playfully, he realised just how far gone he really was.  
And that it was his time to stop fighting against it.  
Even though it hurt.

“Come on baby, show them your beautiful face. Show them those beautiful expressions when I get my hands on you.”

And Sam obeyed.

Because this was Dean.  
Because Dean knew what was best.

He ignored the embarrassment that settled deep in his chest, pushed it down until it was nothing more than a dull annoying throb and fixated his eyes on the webcam, lips parting as Dean swiped across his jaw.  
The chat was going wild.  
He saw the number of viewers increase, and his head spun at the task of trying to imagine that many people in one room – at the imagery of them being with them in the flesh, sitting and creeping as brothers played their game.

He decided against concerning himself with the thought for too long – it just made him tense all over again and Dean wasn’t happy when that happened.  
He turned into a sad little puppy whenever he seemed to give Sam more uneasiness than pleasure and so he kept that feeling at a low level and concentrated on Dean’s hands on him instead, lids fluttering closed as Dean connected their mouths again, tongue immediately coming forward to dance with Sam’s.  
It was less of a kiss and more of a tongue on tongue but Sam didn’t mind much.  
As long as Dean’s lips were on his, he didn’t care for much anyway.

“So beautiful baby boy. Think they wanna see more? Think they wanna see me fuck you? Fuck you in this chair ‘till it fucking breaks? Wanna see me fuck you on the floor after that, until your tight little ass is sore and raw and until you’re crying with everything I can give you? Think they want that baby boy?”

If Sam had had more of a spine, he would have probably told Dean to stop – they hadn’t done more than rut against each other before and even this now was clearly pushing it – but then again, he was nothing more than liquid in Dean’s hands that shook and stayed still on Dean’s command.  
And so he nodded, breathless when his brother pulled away to look at him, pupil’s blown so damn wide when their eyes met.

Then Dean got onto the task that was prepping Sam.

It would have been sweet any other time Sam figured, slow and dragged out until Sam was barely breathing anymore – but considering the look on Dean’s face, he was happy with what he got, even if it was being shoved onto his brother’s lap and having cold lube run down his thighs as Dean positioned them for the camera to see.  
He told himself to breathe, told himself to calm down, that this would be good, that Dean would make it good – and when the cold wetness of Dean’s middle finger breached his rim, he could do no more than huff into the space between his and Dean’s chest.

“Shh baby boy, doing so good. Everyone can see your perfect little ass, can see how beautiful you are, baby”

Sam figured that whatever Dean was saying was no more than sex-drunk nonsense but it felt so good to hear it anyway, to hear whatever bullshit was spilling from his brother’s red lips – because it was what he wanted to hear. 

He wanted to hear every fucking ‘baby boy’ Dean had to give, wanted to drink it up like he was drinking up Dean’s lips now, wanted to drown in them like he did in every touch his big brother gave him. 

He didn’t care for the viewers anymore.

He didn’t give a damn if they got off to incest and child porn, didn’t give a shit about anything anymore other than the two fingers in his ass, scissoring him open, causing those squelching sounds to fill the room as well as Sam’s tight little huffs.

And then there was something else breaching his rim, something just pushing in as the fingers pulled out. The breath Sam had just meant to let out was caught in his throat and stayed there as he leant over, arms wrapping around Dean’s neck like he was his own personal life line, face buried along the sharp line of his big brother’s jaw as the muscle of his hole spasmed around the intruder.

It hurt.  
But Sam made it work.

And with every inch, he nestled his face closer to his big brother’s neck, feeling Dean’s pulse next to his own, beating so fast Sam almost worried for him.  
And then Dean pulled him down.  
Sam let out a strangled sound as his ass cheeks came flush with Dean’s hip, let out a stream of moans against his brother’s skin as Dean was seated deep within him.  
Inside him.  
His legs awkwardly pushed against the back rest of the wooden chair and a small thought was spent on whether or not the thing would break before Dean’s hips snapped up, pushing all air out of Sam like it was the easiest thing to do.  
And apparently it was.

For Dean, it was.

Maybe that’s why they fit so well – maybe that’s why they’re still there, still breathing, even after everything that had happened.  
Even after they had watched their dad go, even as they had found themselves with less than four dollars in their pockets and shitty mc Donald’s meals in their stomachs – it worked.  
It worked because they both did.  
Because they became a machine when lives depended on it, because they worked in unison.  
Be it when they dragged their dad’s body to a field and burned it, or when they fucked into each other with brutal, hard stabs of hips.  
They were one.  
One person to fight, one person to kill.  
Maybe that’s why they became the freaks of today.

Sam stopped thinking about it when Dean let go, ramming himself into him like he didn’t care about his little brother’s pains, like Sam was just a hole he could relieve himself into – and god how much Sam wanted that.  
It felt like he was finally getting what his unconscious had been screaming for for so long, like it had finally managed to shut Sam’s brain up with the help of the sheer force that was Dean – and it felt so good.  
So complete.  
And when he screamed out, he did it in unison with Dean, and when they slowly came down, slowly regained their senses, they just stared at each other for a long time before saying anything.  
Nothing needed to be said.

The look in Dean’s eyes was enough for Sam, enough for a whole lifetime and possibly many more. He knew he’d do anything for that smile.

Anything for that look.

Anything to have Dean dopily stare up at him like this again, even if it meant sacrificing everything that he had once considered ‘human’.  
He was almost sure that he and Dean shared that darkness now.  
Like it seeped from Dean into Sam, like it trickled into him, mixed with his blood, changed him.

“Sammy.”

It was the softest Sam had ever heard his nickname be whispered and he could have died right then and there from it.  
Could have just melted into a pile of bones and sickness.  
The webcam was forgotten.

Who cared about viewers?  
Who cared about Dad?  
Or any other person, when they had each other?

“De…”

They smiled.  
The darkness smiled back.


End file.
